


Rothenburg

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gunther found peace there once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rothenburg

Rothenburg is a blossoming young architect’s paradise, Gunther finds--antiquated, diverse, and utterly charming. He feels blessed to live there, often finding himself trailing behind Mother and Father to gape in awe at  intricate structures and aging stones. His brow furrows as he takes in the shape of the old church, burns each soft curve and sloping angle into his memory. Gunther doesn’t talk much--he’s teased often for staring into space for too long, but he doesn’t mind--not really. He’s too occupied with the shape, the structure and design--to really care what everyone else thinks.

His chest heaves in a sigh, contented, as his eyes flash from the weathered stone arches, the complex designs mottling the edges--it as he muses that he feels at peace. His mother often says to him how odd he is, to take such pleasure in serenity at the ripe age of ten. He’s unsure if her comments are made in admiration or concern, but again, he doesn’t particularly mind.

“Gunther!”

The reverie is shattered when a sharp young voice cuts through the air--Gunther turns with anticipation and finds he isn’t disappointed as the young girl comes barrelling into his arms. He stumbles backwards with a laugh, the two flopping gracelessly to the soft grass below with a thud. He grins up at his sister. “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning your room?” He asks teasingly, but there’s no edge to his voice. He grunts as Annika gives his chest a playful smack, face twisting conspiratorially. “Shhhh!” She whispers and Gunther gives another laugh at her grave expression. “Don’t say that! It’s far too pretty outside to be stuck in my boring ol’ room just….just…” The girl gestures vaguely, nose wrinkling in contemplation. “.... _dusting_.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes. “If you spent as much time actually dusting as you do complaining about it, you might’ve been done already _liebe._ ” Annika groans and shoves him again. “ _Shweige_.” She hisses, and falls back atop him with a sigh. Gunther hums quietly, threads hand through thick brown locks. He’s always envied her hair color a little--a rich chocolate brown like his father’s, as opposed to his own onyx color. His eyes fall back to the stone church, and again, he becomes aware of nothing else. The masonry is impressive--the mortar made of...limestone? Or perhaps it utilized oyster shells, he’d read that was common in old buildings after all to use them when holding stones together--

“Can we play today?” Annika’s voice slices through the silence and his train of thought dissipates. He lowers his eyes to the small girl in his arms. She looks up at him, wide eyes boring into him with a gaze he’s almost certain will kill him if she persists. Gunther makes a reluctant sound--hesitant.

“Mother will be angry with us both.”

“It’s too late for that! I’ll get in trouble for sneaking out anyway!”

“Yeah, _you_ will! I haven’t done anything wrong yet!”

Annika grins mischievously. “Ah. But you said _yet_ brother.” He heaves a sigh in response--a gentle breeze sweeping across the patch of warm grass. Gunther feels his eyes flutter shut briefly, exhaling as the wind tousles his hair--blades of grass tickling his palms. He gives the old church one last longing look. Annika glares up at him in exasperation.

“That old thing will be there forever Gunther! You can look at it later!” She rolls off of him, sitting up to pout dramatically. “Later as in when I’m not here!” He finds himself sighing for what must be the eighth time today. He can’t concentrate with her yammering in his ear anyway.

Gunther stands, brushing the flecks of dirt and grass off his legs.

“What are we playing?”

\-----

They start the day with hide and seek, venturing far into the woods where gnarled branches and fallen trees make for a perfect refuge. It’s brought to an end when Gunther skins a knee in an attempt to hide himself in the treetops. From there they explore, an activity that, while less competitive, proves just as exciting nonetheless. Annika is practically in hysterics when she finds a chunk of quartz in what she insists is the shape of a heart, though Gunther thinks its more of an ovular shape. They just about perish when they discover a badger hole, peering into the gaping crevasse only for Gunther to exclaim in horror that the resident was currently still inside. The ensuing retreat marked the end of that game as well.

Gunther sits on a nearby stump, watching impassively as Annika paces back and forth in contemplation. Occasional lulls in their bouts of adventure were not uncommon, and he finds himself eyeing the small cottage on the horizon before his sister pipes up again in enthusiasm.

“Cops and Robbers!” She cries, arms extending towards the sky at the revelation. Gunther looks at her blankly.

“.....Cops and _what_?” He asks. He’s never heard of that game before, and he leans forward on his knees in vague curiosity. Annika gapes at him. “You’ve never heard of cops and robbers before??” She asks as if he’s just grown another head. Gunther just shakes his head calmly.

Annika explains the game with unabashed elation--Gunther nodding and asking an occasional question in turn. It’s rather easy to pacify her as long as you take an interest in whatever she’s rambling about. It sounds like an interesting game, at least and when she’s done explaining the rules he finds himself a little excited about it too. It’s a simple enough concept: one person plays the robber who attempts to evade the other person, who plays the cop, in order to “spread evil and misery throughout the world” as Annika put it. A simple, but classic concept. Gunther accepts the challenge.

Annika insists on being the robber, and Gunther wisely does not protest--only mentioning that they need a larger space to play in properly. The rocks and twigs and dense trees would make a game comprised mostly of chasing one another a considerable trial. While Annika firmly relents that the geography makes it all the more challenging--she concedes eventually. Gunther leads them back towards their home, settling upon a grassy clearing only a few minutes from the house. The underbrush scattered along the perimeter promised easy hiding spots, and the small cluster of stones that adorned the right hand side made for a perfect base from which to start. As he does every time they visit this particular spot--Gunther delivers a well-rehearsed ultimatum.   
“Remember to stay away from the bushes to the left.” He delivers firmly. Annika groans in response, which prompts him to press further.

“Now, why are we supposed to stay away from the bushes to the left?”

“Because there aren’t any dumb handrails and the dumb ravine is over there too and if you’re too stupid you could slip and then you could fall and then you could die.” Annika delivers her response with a tone that is only made possible when you’ve heard the same thing over and over and over again. Gunther quirks a brow at her rather morbid response, but nods anyway. Annika immediately gets to business laying out the rules.

“Okay, now, so the main base will be over there….”

\------------------

They start a mere ten minutes later, and Gunther is astounded it only took her that long to establish the rules. His eyes are shut tightly, palms pressed against the cold stone surface. He’s counting.

_“Eins...zwei…drei...vier…”_

He can hear her scampering around--barely suppressed laughter in tow. Annika is not subtle, but she never has been. Gunther focuses on the trajectory of her footsteps as he counts: leaning towards the right-hand side--the snapping sound of twigs and leaves being crushed beneath her feet. She’s in the bushes now, he notes silently.

_“.....dreisseig!”_

 

He whirls around with a start as he gets to thirty, immediately taking off in the opposite direction of the small footsteps. It always benefits him in the end to give her a little leeway--makes her less ill-tempered. He’s never been a competitive kid anyway. He feigns ignorance for a few sparse moments before he turns in her direction again, sneaking. Gunther does his damn best to emulate a lion in wait, arching down low, steps muted and cautious--anticipating the right moment.

He knows he’s been quiet for too long--Annika is getting suspicious, fidgeting in her hiding spot. She knows. Gunther grits his teeth, arches lower--ready for it. The inevitable window.

It should be right about…

_now._

Gunther pounces.

_“STOP RIGHT THERE CRIMINAL SCUM!!”_

It’s ripped from his throat like a roar and Gunther feels like he can topple cities when Annika shrieks--a pleasant, familiar mix of fear and mirth, and darts back into the underbrush, using her small size to her advantage, briefly disappearing in the see of twigs and branches before ascending to the surface a few yards away. For a moment she seems to be startled, looking around wide-eyed as though she fears she’d ran all the way to another country in those few short seconds. Gunther waits patiently and sure enough, she spots him--lets out a squeal. Annika tears across the clearing like a goddamn hurricane, snapping branches, crushing leaves, kicking up a swirling storm cloud of dirt in her trail. Gunther pursues her vigilantly--despite her boundless energy, it is an inevitable outcome; Gunther’s legs are longer, his lungs stronger, and sure enough he’s tackled her to the ground in under a minute. “Aha!” He cries, pinning her with as much gentleness as he can without allowing her escape. “I have apprehended the criminal!” Gunther can’t fight back the ridiculous smile that spreads across his face when Annika squeaks, shaking with giggles--her chest heaves as she makes some pitiful attempt at resistance, before she relents, letting her ruthless criminal persona slip to melt into a silly giggling 7 year old with her hair in pigtails.

Gunther has to let out a laugh himself. He leans down and pecks her forehead affectionately. “Seems like good has prevailed in the end, _liebe_.” She glowers at him momentarily before sighing. She seems tired out--Gunther notes, and lessens the pressure on her a little more. He sighs, eyes flickering to the horizon momentarily. It’s getting dark--the sky a soft orange color as the sun edges lower in the sky. They really should be getting back by now. Mother would throw a fit if they stayed out too long after dark.

He exhales heavily. “Alright, as much as I’d love to kick your butt again we should start heading home so--”

Gunther looks down at the vacant space where his sister once lay--she’d wriggled from his grasp, huh? An ominous snicker resonates from his right. There, silhouetted by the setting sun, stood Annika--her hands clasped together, forming a pistol with her fingers. “This isn’t the end yet, _copper!_ ” She grins, and her face hardens into an expression so wrought with intensity Gunther practically convinced for a moment that she is a ruthless criminal mastermind. He feigns a horrified expression as his sister jerks her hands back--accompanied with a resounding yelp of _“Bang!”_

He reiterates with an intricate maneuver--rolling gracefully on the ground with a smirk. “Ha! You missed me!” He declares with pride and Annika draws back. “D-drat!” She cries before bolting towards the bushes again. Gunther pursues her vehemently. “Don’t think you’re the only one with a weapon you fiend!”

His fingers take the form of a similar weapon-- and he shoots at her retreating form. “Ha! I got you!” He calls out--but Annika rears her head and sticks out her tongue in defiance.

“Nuh uh! It didn’t go off! You didn’t make the sound!” She retorts, voice laced with exertion--excitement. “You’ll never take me alive!!”

His pursuit continues for what seems like hours, and eventually Annika slows, coming to a halt amidst one of the many bushes. She rests her hands on her knees-bent over in exhaustion, chest heaving. Gunther is faring no better--but he can’t resist a gleeful smile at having cornered her at last.

“You’ve finally met your match, criminal!” He declares. He wishes he was less out of breath to do this--his voice is all wavering and shaky. Not particularly threatening at all he thinks.

Annika’s form straightens--and she regards him with a cold stare one usually would save for only the most vile of pestilence. Remind him, is she _really_ not a criminal? Gunther’s a little jealous when she speaks; her voice is collected and calm. Dignified. She should really be an actor some day.

“Do your worst, _abschaum_ ” She spits.

With this Gunther stiffens. He raises his makeshift pistol, pointing it at Annika with unwavering hands. She starts a little--but the impassive, cold stare returns almost immediately. Gunther grins widely--mischievously. This time--he won’t miss.

 _“Bang!!_ ”

Annika clutches her chest dramatically--stumbles. Gunther gives a triumphant whoop as she disappears into the underbrush.

She doesn’t come back up.

Gunther is about to make another boastful comment when he hears it. Hears the sickening crack of flesh on stone. Something burns in his lungs when he whips his head around--something is wrong, something is _very wrong_ \--given their position from the rock where were they’d first started-they couldn’t have gone too far could they?--

His heart almost stops when he realizes.

Annika had been standing on the _left hand side_.

Gunther feels his heart thud rapidly against his chest as he tears across the field, ripping the foliage aside to peer down at the sloping edge of the ravine. Maybe she’d fallen on her knees--maybe she’d landed on a patch of soft dirt or grass--anything--maybe----

He sees her.

Annika is sleeping with her eyes open, he thinks. That pretty hazel color he’d envied so often clouded over and blank. Her face is smeared--blurry even, and he can see redness trickling from her nose--her mouth. There’s a similar color pooling around her head like a halo and Gunther wants to scream and scream and _scream_ until there’s nothing left of him but he can’t--his throat is closing--breath coming in shallow little heaves. Gunther’s eyes are burning--he can feel hot tears pricking at his eyes.  

He’s moving before he can think about it--stumbling down the slanted rockside. He hits the ground on his hands and knees but he doesn’t feel it--his senses have narrowed down to nothing but the crumpled form of his baby sister lying a few feet away. The tears spill over.

“ _L...liebe_?” He chokes, crawling over to whatever it was that had taken on his sister’s image. This wasn’t her right? This wasn’t _really_ her. It was like those stories they’d read--the genius detective faking his death to evade a pursuer. That’s all it was--that’s all.

Up close he can see just how vacuous and hollow her eyes are now--and he way the blood has splattered across her dress makes bile claw up his throat. Gunther wretches--heaves out a sob. A voice in his head repeating--insisting this isn’t real--but he _knows_ it is--he knows because how could his mind conjure up eyes that _empty?_

He’s screaming again--for his mother this time. Sobbing--hyperventilating, he cradles Annika--kisses her, doesn’t look at those _hollow goddamn eyes_ that were once so passionate and warm and versatile. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s her big brother--she’s his little sister, _he’s_ supposed to get hurt--saving her from some precarious situation. He’s supposed to keep her _safe_. Somewhere deep inside him he hears a voice that’s always been there and he   _knows_ that this can’t be real. It’s impossible, because there’s an inexplicable knowledge rooted inside him that he always goes first. _He’s supposed to be the one that dies first._

But he’s not.

 


End file.
